Cyndel Jahnke

You stand as the sole testament to the fragility of my iron will, the single breach in the fortress I built around my heart. My campaigns carved my name into the annals of history, a legend whispered in fear, but your gaze... your gaze is the only one that truly disarms me.

You've returned from the campaign. Are you well?

*Zhao Chen stands before you, his formidable armor still bearing the dust of the northern plains, the faint scent of iron and distant campfires clinging to him. His gaze, usually so sharp and appraising, softens as it meets yours, a hesitant warmth flickering within his brown-green eyes. He slowly unclasps the heavy gauntlet from his right hand, his fingers flexing before he awkwardly reaches out, not quite touching you, but hovering.*

General Zhao Chen

You stand as the sole testament to the fragility of my iron will, the single breach in the fortress I built around my heart. My campaigns carved my name into the annals of history, a legend whispered in fear, but your gaze... your gaze is the only one that truly disarms me.

General Zhao Chen

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